


You Couldn't See The River

by woundfucker88



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:59:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woundfucker88/pseuds/woundfucker88
Summary: The river. He missed seeing the river. It was the only place he really felt... okay.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gatobob](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gatobob).
  * Inspired by [Yikes](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/280896) by Well, the author of this bean is gatobob ayyye. 



> This is my first fanfic ever so like... go easy on me please, ehehe...

Lawrence sighed at the dead body on his floor, his eyes shifting to the bucket full of their blood and the small puddle on the floor. This is why he didn't leave. He always found another problem. They'd been nice to him, despite what he'd done. Kidnapping them, tying them to a chair.... hurting them.

But it was fine. Because he'd fixed it... They weren't a problem now. He was fine. It was all okay... And they were going to see the river.

The river. He missed seeing the river. It was the only place he really felt... okay. No beginning, no end, no color, it was nothing. But at the same time, it seemed to wake you up, make you feel whole again. He was terrified once he'd left. Everything was terrifying, the people, the places, the whole world.

He drank a lot of tea that he'd drugged, maybe just to see it again. He just wanted to see it again. To feel okay again. To not be terrified anymore. He was never able to see it.

He stood up from the edge of his bed and went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, where he grabbed the medicine bottles to be numb and for pain. He opened both and chugged them. He wanted a quick way of doing this. He grabbed more of the bottles of liquids and powders, some he didn't even remember what they were for, and tucked them under his arms, leaving the bathroom to go to the kitchen. He made some tea and poured all of the powders and liquids together into the kettle before pouring it into a cup and chugging it. He didn't even take his time to enjoy it. He just wanted it to be over.

Eventually, he'd given up on using the cup and drank it straight from the kettle until there wasn't a drop left. As he set it back down, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked around the room. The room tilted some and his veins felt like they were on fire. He stumbled back over to the dead body and whimpered softly. The body looked weird. Almost like there were bugs all over it. The plants on his tables and floor and hanging from the ceiling also looked weird. Like they were withering before his eyes and vines snaked across the floor, circling up his ankles.

His breath caught in his throat as the room spun more and the vines wrapped around hs ankles, moving up his legs. He grabbed the gardening shears by his bed and started hacking at them, but it didn't help. Because in reality, they weren't even there.

Too many drugs...

He let out a panicked cry and stabbed at the vine that snaked up his stomach, only resulting in stabbing himself right in the stomach. Lawrence let out a louder cry than before, seeing the vine move into the wound and seem to wriggle around in his intestines. His blood didn't even look like blood. It was a bright blue and seemed to glow. Tears stung his eyes at the blinding pain as his vision started to blacken. He fell onto his back and let out a strained sob, coughing up more bright blue, glowing blood.

Waaay too many drugs...

His vision fogged. More vines wrapped around his arms and seemed to hold him down as he struggled for the knife he'd used to cut his last victim's wrists open. He managed to grab it wuickly, his hand shaking like the room was below freezing. It felt like it was. His breath seemed like it was coming out in short, gasping, strained pants. He moved the blade of the knife to his throat and with the last of his strength, he swiped it across his skin, forming a deep, wide gash that poured more blue blood.

The vine in his stomach retracted as he choked on his own blood, his body convulsing, his eyes rolling up to the inside of his skull.

And then he stopped moving. Stopped choking. It was dead silent.

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be surrounded by darkness. There was nothing, no ground, no sky. Everything was pitch black.

He'd come all this way to see the river...

And he couldn't see it.

He took a step back, digging his nails into his skull, mumbling, "no, no, no, no, no..." over and over. He let out a shriek as he collapsed to his knees.

He couldn't see the river.


End file.
